


A Supersoldier Sandwich

by thejamesoldier



Series: A Tiny Favor [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM Scene, Cock Slut, Cock Worship, Daddy Kink, Devotion, Dirty Talk, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Dominance, Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, Large Cock, Love, M/M, Multi, Oneshot, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Relationship(s), Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Smutty, Subspace, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 01:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17033776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejamesoldier/pseuds/thejamesoldier
Summary: As Hillary Duff says,This is what dreams are made of.





	A Supersoldier Sandwich

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so this is some smut literally no one asked for lmao. It really wrote itself which, like, never happens. So I ran with it. This was sort of lightly/jokingly considered by me and has been in my drafts since the dinosaur age. Even after writing it I debated on whether or not to even post it, but alas here it is. So yeah anyhoo enjoy the smut?

_Smutty Oneshot_

 

* * *

 

 

You wake with a start. 

Your lungs are working in your chest, you feel breathless and sticky. Sticky because you’re sweating (slick down below as well) and breathless because you feel like you just  _came in your sleep_. Is that possible? Is that a thing? Can that happen?

After taking a few generous moments to collect yourself and try to rid your mind of the steamy images smearing and swirling there, you move to climb out of bed only to be yanked harshly to the floor in a loud graceless crash. You  _basically_ shake the entire tower, all 93 floors. Bucky and you slept at the tower last night instead of going all the way home after the team came back late from a standard op. 

“Good  _fucking_ Christ!” You cry, absolutely enraged as you engage in an intense wrestling match with the sheets of the bed that refuse to let go of your legs. You shoot off more colorful phrases that bounce rudely off the walls as the snare of cotton holds fast. 

You honestly have never felt so flustered in your entire life. Your dream really fucked with your head, excuse the pun. You can, even now, still feel so vividly those two supersolider bodies, muscles bulging and oiled with a sheen of sweat, trapping you between them and –

“Al _right_ already!” You hiss at yourself as you still haven’t managed to extract yourself from the sheets, completely ignorant of the walls that seem to glare in at you for continuing to disturb the peaceful dawn. 

With a loud dramatic huff (it was going to be one of those days), you finally disentangle yourself from the sheets and grumble like a stooge as you stomp out of the room, grabbing a silk robe Tony provided and slippers on the way out. You don’t really know where you’re going until you find yourself in the communal kitchen, bed head, puffy sleep-face and all. Steve and Bucky are sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping coffee, biting into freshly made blueberry muffins, and sharing a newspaper laid between them on the counter. You know, just being adorable old men and all. 

Wanda, who’s sitting quaintly at the little table-for-two with Nat across from her (both of them digging into a box of donut holes), raises her eyebrows at the loud hot and heavy thoughts rampaging uncontrollably in your head. She turns to face you, donut holes stuffing both her cheeks like a chipmunk and catches your cranky glare. 

“ _What?_ ” You mouth defensively, crossing your arms while you’re at it (the only sign you’re fucking panicking).

A shit eating smirk grows steadily on Wanda’s lips, pouching her cheeks out in the most ridiculous manner. Uncharacteristically she jumps her eyebrows at you and starts nodding her head, sending you her solid approval with a two thumbs up. 

“It was a dream!” You hiss at her under your breath after you stumble frantically over to their table to clarify. Natasha, now fully interested in the exchange at your heated expression, sets her  _‘I know everything you’re thinking’_  gaze on you and holds it there waiting for you to spill (or snap, either one).

Wanda makes a weird noise, like she’s trying to talk around her mouthful of donuts but you quickly pretend like you don’t hear her, and snatch a donut hole for yourself. You turn away before Wanda can finish chewing and Nat can finish decoding, quickly shuffling past Steve and Bucky hunched lazily over the island counter without another word. Both supersoldiers glance up from their morning read in their usual weird synchronization, Steve to send you a casual good morning smile and Bucky who leans a bit out of his chair to tenderly kiss your cheek. 

The second his lips press against your skin, Wanda’s foreign red energy pokes itself curiously –  _NOSILY_  – somewhere in your brain, into a private little pocket, and the heady dream from last night violently resurfaces. It’s like a looming tidal wave that crashes over you, sweeping you away senses mind heart and all. The world fades around you…

 

* * *

 

“Bucky are you sure?” 

Your husband curls one hand loosely but proprietorially around the side of your neck, while the other comes up to fondly cup your cheek,

“He’s the only other person I’d trust you with.” 

Your eyes close involuntarily as the profound tenor of his words rumble over you, settle warm and rich and final in the marrow of your bones. With the both of you naked in your bedroom, it makes everything insurmountably more intimate. 

“I trust you.” Comes your breathless surrender as your lashes lift to be immediately met with the hot inexorable stare of Bucky’s blue eyes, irises nearly black now with the anticipation of what’s to come. 

“I know.” He hushes tenderly, then seems to pause for a moment like he’s readying himself, and takes a breath, “I just want you to  _feel_ , to be overwhelmed with touch, smell, sight, sound. To be drowned in so much sensation that you lose yourself,” Bucky touches your foreheads together and inhales deeply through his nose, “God I want to take you  _apart_.” 

Your breath gushes from your parted lips as you find yourself already pressing into him, falling into him –  _collapsing into him_ , weak with desire like a flip was switched or a certain combination of buttons was pushed in order to unlock this part of you. Need burns in your veins like molten molasses – sweet and heavy and slow, devastating you with each breath and churning the heat in your core hotter as this game of perfected torture begins. 

Bucky very rarely starts off quick, unless he means for it to be fast and messy or to catch you off guard. Usually he likes to begin slow, to take his time enticing you down into those familiar hazy fogs that smother logic, stress, time, and everything else the real world consists of. He lets your brain marinate and your mental demons writhe themselves into uselessness so your body and it’s physical desires can rise to the surface and stay there unchallenged. It makes you sensitive to everything, he once told you, stripped you of your walls and made you a singular creature – one of want and need. 

Now is no different. His hands harden in their places against your skin and suddenly his mouth is on you. He worships every inch of your neck, your jaw, your nose, your cheeks, your ears, even the delicate backs of your eyelids, everywhere but your lips. He continues this for what seems like forever, time has already started slip and blur, when Bucky purposefully – authoritatively – presses his lips in a teasing peck right on the corner of your mouth. Before you give in to begging for a proper kiss, Bucky’s warm voice startles your eyes open.

“Safe word,” He demands, fingers of one hand moving only to tighten firmly on your chin.

“Brooklyn.” You obediently recite as the gates to your heart open and delicious heat simply  _blooms_ in your chest. 

There’s a couple beats where Bucky just gazes at you, eyes hopping between your own, before he speaks. 

“Steve,” Bucky calls gently, holding his unyielding eye contact with you as he does so. 

The door opens behind you and a pair of light but sure footfalls sound as Steve enters the room. You go to turn your head and look back at him over your shoulder, but Bucky reiterates his claim on your complete attention by hardening his hold on your chin just enough to stop your head from turning. A subtle but firm reminder that he’s in charge now, that you’re under his control. It sends you higher and you  _sigh_ –

“Come here.” Bucky instructs his friend in a tone of voice you’ve only ever heard him use with you – clear, open, inviting but unarguably dominant. 

It gives you chills. 

You hear Steve walk steadily closer but stop  _directly_ behind you, barely an inch and a half separating the both of you, making all the small hairs on your body rise in a prickling bone deep wave, awakening all your senses. A violent shiver rockets up your spine when you feel a hot shuddering breath billow against the back of your neck. Not unlike the unnatural strength of Bucky’s body heat, a foreign warmth radiates off the original supersoldier behind you to lick and lave all over your exposed naked backside. Your eyes flutter against the feeling and a shaky breath shutters out of your parted lips. 

Bucky watches you experience this small but intoxicating first step into subspace and flicks his gaze up to meet Steve’s over your head. He inclines his chin over to the dresser and Steve nods knowingly, having discussed everything in detail with Bucky before hand. Steve grabs your collar off the polished wood surface and comes back this time to set himself at Bucky’s flank, offering him your collar with an upturned palm. 

You greedily drink in Steve’s nakedness – the Da Vinci level gloriousness of it – but then quickly find yourself observing the expression on Steve’s face, automatically searching for judgement or hesitance, anything really for your insecurities to prey on. 

 _What if Steve thinks this is weird? He is from the 40′s after all and was a lot more reserved than Bucky. Or what if he sees this side of me, this_ vulnerability _, and is…_ disgusted _?_

Bucky immediately notices those fears shredding the spacey calm of your irises, tearing you mercilessly out of the fluffy headspace he had worked to get you in. With a fond patience that speaks to his experience with your demons, he releases your chin only to politely grab the collar from Steve while the other secures itself possessively around your neck. 

That gets your attention. 

 _I want my Y/n back,_ He demands silently of your demons that swarm and hiss at him in the swirling pools of your eyes,  _She’s mine._

“You’re mine.” Bucky declares this time out loud and in a way that brokers no argument. 

Most of you wants to listen and return to the familiar blissful journey to subspace, but the other part of you  _fights_ it.  _Fights_ it like the lone survivor of a diseased cause, a cornered rat, as you again drag your gaze away from Bucky’s, and anxiously continue to map over Steve’s face. 

You can tell Steve is trying really hard to make sure you feel safe, he even smiles at you a little, one of his rare roguish ones, but even that doesn’t work. And it’s not Steve that’s making you feel this way, not really. You trust Bucky, you trust Steve, but this part of you, this  _vulnerability_ , is something you hadn’t afforded knowledge of to any other soul but Bucky. Its fucking  _terrifying_. 

Quite suddenly, something that feels like stinging panic starts to bubble hot in your gut, like an iron balloon that won’t yield as it gets bigger and bigger and bigger. You watch your emotions mirror in Bucky’s eyes and he does something that startles you so much, it shocks you out of your building crash. Puts everything on pause because –

He drops your collar to the ground, smoothly slides his free fingers to grip Steve by the back of his neck, and pushes him firmly to his knees.  

The display of submission strikes something in you like the resonating echo of a huge bell. You’d never seen Steve on his knees before –  _willingly_. Bucky knew you felt too exposed, too open, too outnumbered, and made a choice to allow you to feel less so. He knows you better than you know yourself. 

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding as the metal balloon deflates in your gut and warmth once again spreads in your chest. Something cruel lifts from your shoulders and makes you feel lighter than air as you stare down at Steve in pure unabashed wonder. When Bucky reaches to pick your collar up from the floor and then steadily secures the suede inner lining tight around your neck, you release a noise that sounds like a plea. The band of pressure feels like heaven, like safety, like release, like home, like every promise Bucky’s ever made and those yet to be made. 

Steve remains calmly kneeling, staring up at you with something akin to awe. In a gesture of complete fondness, Bucky sets his gaze away from you and down at Steve, dragging the backs of his flesh knuckles along the arrow of one of his friend’s high cheekbones. In the next moment, he seamlessly cups the back of Steve’s head with that same hand, and guides him forward. Steve shuffles a bit on his knees before he comes to a stop with his lips hovering a breath away from your cunt. The world warps and tilts. You wobble on your feet, finding your hips swaying themselves towards that unfamiliar mouth after a pink tongue pokes out between the lips and makes quick work of wetting them. 

“You want to taste her?” Bucky’s rich baritone shatters the silence in one deliberate heady slice. 

Steve nods, eyes locked on the prize in front of him, and answers with a breathless lusting, “ _Yeah_.” 

You suddenly don’t know what to do with your hands as they twitch at your sides, immediately wanting to dig them into that beautiful golden head of perfectly combed hair after Steve’s voiced desire, but also knowing it’s Bucky’s choice. Or more like you want Bucky’s  _approval_. The man in question walks around Steve and you in a generous slow circle, eyes greedily drinking in the sight of the two of you, taking his time until he comes to a stop behind you where Steve stood when he first came in. 

Bucky lets you writhe in the infinite intoxicating tension of no sensory stimulation, of having nothing touch you but the pulse of your heart beat against your collar –  _mine-his-owned-safe_  – and the slight twin puffs of warm breath teasing the sensitive flesh of your cunt and the skin at the back of your neck. He waits, one beat, two beats, three beats, until you  _break_ and  _whine_ long and high for your Daddy. 

Bucky smiles smugly at the noise, relishing in the primitive satisfaction of your need that pours hot weight into his core and filters down to fill his cock and tighten his balls. When Bucky does decide to finally touch you a few seconds or so  _after_ your desperate call to him, its with his stubbled chin tucked over your shoulder and his two different textured palms dragging possessively all over your body. He only touches you in fond ways, in reverently teasing ways like softly swiping his fingers under the warm weight of your breasts, or smoothing his palms tenderly over the expanse of your stomach, or letting his thumbs circle your nipples until they harden but never pinching them, or tracing a finger up the valley between your breasts to map over your collarbone. 

He indulges in the gorgeous sight of you pushing your body into his hands, watching you devastate yourself just for the small but sweet prize of a loving caress. At this point all your weight is lent back into him and you’ve turned to rest your forehead against one of his temples, breathing heavily through your parted lips as you at once try to get Bucky to touch you moremoremoremore _more_  while also eyeing Steve, who still waits patiently on his knees enjoying the sensual display of your body before him. 

 _Mine,_ Bucky is saying with his gaze when he catches Steve’s eye,  _This is all mine._

“Go slow,” Bucky then rumbles to Steve from over your shoulder. You don’t even have time to express your gratitude to him before you feel the point of Steve’s straight nose nuzzle reverently at your now wet folds. 

You gasp breathlessly at the contact and when you look down, the dim light reveals the twin golden smears of his long lowered thick lashes, the matching glow of his hair, the perfect unmarred musculature of his shoulders and back, the rounding twin globes of his ass, and the movement of his big hands as they clasp firmly around your ankles and slowly slide up towards your thighs. 

“No touching,” Comes a barking command from Bucky as he kicks your legs wider apart and goes from lightly cupping the curving mounds of your breasts to massaging the tender flesh in the way he knows drives you crazy, “Only tasting.” 

As Steve locks his hands obediently behind his back, he glances up at the two of you only to snatch stares with Bucky again who deliberately licks a long possessive line up the side of your throat. Steve slow blinks up at Bucky which you belatedly realize is a show of yielding before he, still keeping eye contact with Bucky, leans in to copy the movement of Bucky’s tongue against your neck along the length of your wet folds. After a steady flat indulgent swipe, he flicks your clit when the tip of his tongue reaches it, wrenching a surprised inhale from you and an involuntary buck from your hips. Your body desperately following the merciful pleasure of Steve’s tongue as he pulls away, seeming to do this  _only_  for the satisfaction of watching your hips chase after him.

“ _Whore_ ,” Bucky whispers in your ear then, a private mantle decorated in ribbons of smugness and lust and pride. The harshness of the name is softened by the loving kiss he presses just under your ear. 

You fucking melt. 

Your hands seem to have thus far remained limp and twitching at your sides and now find themselves starving for the touch of Steve’s stupidly perfect hair as Steve takes his time deciding when to lean back in. A sharp flare of delicious pain blooms on one of your ass cheeks as Bucky delivers a disciplinary slap to it with his metal hand. It’s a warning to stay your searching hips, you can practically hear Bucky’s voice in your head, ‘ _Pleasure is a reward for good behavior, for good girls_ ’. Shuddering with the effort to control yourself, you relax the muscles in your pelvis as best you can and sink back into the iron support of Bucky’s body behind you. 

Bucky nods then, and Steve immediately dives in this time not sparing one inch of your pussy. His tongue licks into your folds, exploring you and pleasuring you and worshiping you and you’re so glad you got a handle on your hips. Rewards are always worth the effort –  _always._ You feel Bucky watching you watch Steve as Bucky continues to indulge himself in the terrain of your body, and it’s all you can do not to dissolve right there between them like wet cotton candy, melting under the heat of them, in their shared touch and care. 

The urge to hold onto something (specifically that golden head of hair so you could maybe get away with being a little naughty and using that wicked tongue of his just a bit more feverishly) increases with each breath you take, your lungs swallowing shallower and shallower gulps of air. Bucky feels you tensing like a wire, not your body, but the very matter and molecules around you –  _a sixth sense_ that lets him know that mentally, your gonna snap and soon. Under the two supersoldiers’ relentlessly ravishing ministrations, you finally try to manage a complete sentence, 

“Touch – can I please touch him?” Comes your shaky attempt at a question before you quickly catch yourself, “ _Daddy,”_ Your voice snags in your throat because that’s the first time you’ve called Bucky that out loud with Steve here, but you force yourself to push through the threat of your re-awakening fear of judgment in favor of satisfying your desires,“Can Iplease touch him,  _Daddy,_ ” Your breath shudders between the words like a violently plucked string as you feel Steve only become more enthusiastic against you and wait for the law of Bucky’s answer. 

“No,” Bucky declares so evenly, so deliberately, and with just enough pause to draw a whine out of you, before adding like an after thought, “You’ll drive him crazy and I want him to go slow.” His point punctuated by a guttural groan that emits from Steve as he continues to greedily stuff his mouth with you.

The fact that Steve is as sensitive to touch as you are, sends a wave of heat so potent that it roles through your entire body and leaves you even more unsteady on your feet than before – nearly  _unhinged_. And also who knew Captain America could eat pussy so well? That alone was surprise enough, but when Steve then executes a tongue trick  _Bucky_ does to you when he wants to really send you teetering on the brink, you near black out because that’s a Y/n specific thing. Bucky must have…must have  _told_  Steve about it –

“You feeling good baby?” Bucky murmurs with his usual too perfect timing into the pocket of your right collarbone after you give a full body shiver and a low breathy ‘ _uh_ ’ escapes your throat in response to the gifted tongue against your clit. 

Bucky hums like a sated beast as he drags his nose along a taught raised tendon that starts in your shoulder, and follows its gradual inclining swoop into the bared column of your neck, pausing to scrape his teeth against the leather of your collar in a teasing nip before resuming his path up. You manage a strangled groan in response to all of this as your head lolls back to rest fully against his metal shoulder. One of Bucky’s more smug brand of smirks curls like a lounging cat onto the generous pillows of his lips before he presses it firmly into the shadowed hook of your exposed jaw, 

“Color?” He hushes to you, mouth brushing against your skin as you give a jerk at another sly flick of Steve’s tongue. 

“Green,” You  _moan_  for him as your hands snap up to clasp desperately at his flesh and metal forearms since they were denied the soft tressess of Steve’s hair. 

“Steve, color?” Bucky then asks but all he gets in response is a muffled groan as Steve continues doing things with his tongue that should really not be legal.

You tried, you really did, to obey Bucky’s order of no touching Steve, but you are in fact human with no super powers and you needed something to  _yank_   _on goddammit –_  

“Fuck!” Comes your hoarse exclamation as you crank your head up from Bucky’s shoulder and reach both hands down to card into Steve’s hair only to fist them tight, shoving Steve harder against your cunt. You reason that you’re still technically obeying Bucky by not moving your hips, the sin of Steve’s mouth came  _to_   _you_ , willingly or not. 

Steve groans loud and low as you hold his head still now and start to swivel your hips down onto his face, cursing Bucky’s rules to hell and using that mouth of Steve’s because you honestly couldn’t take it anymore. Bucky allows this to go on for another second, one because he wants to encourage this fragile comfort you are forming with Steve, and two because its fucking  _hot_. 

Bucky takes the situation back into his realm of control, where it belongs, when he slips a finger into the back of your collar and tugs harshly enough that you stumble back a step or two, effectively causing you to release your grip on Steve’s hair. He then easily reaches around you to grab some of that now completely –  _satisfyingly_ – disheveled golden hair and hauls his friend away from the tangy wetness of your pussy. 

Steve has your juices all over his chin, jaw, nose, and mouth. The vision of him kneeling before you with glazed eyes, a debauched expression on his face, mouth open and huffing, glassy gaze staring over his nose at the abandoned feast of your flesh in front of him, and chin forcefully tilted back by Bucky’s metal hand is almost too much.  

Bucky releases the blonde first, having removed his mouth from you for your sake – for your  _punishment_ – more than for Steve’s. Steve had admitted to Bucky that he liked taking what was his in bed, ravishing his partner and not letting them up for air, but he agreed to bow to Bucky’s dominance in this situation. For you, because you needed it, needed Bucky to lead. It’s the only way Bucky knew you’d be okay with this. Though if there was a ‘Who’s in Charge’ hierarchy chart here, it would be Bucky, Steve, and you at the bottom. Bucky had given Steve permission to make his own choices later in the scene but at the start, it was all Bucky. 

In one swift movement Bucky pushes you to your knees and parts his legs a little before squishing your cheek against one of his thighs so you’re looking directly at Bucky’s large cock that looms at full mast in front of you. You whimper because you  _know_ that you’ll be denied the right to taste it as further punishment for so blatantly disrespecting Bucky’s request. It’s not until a second heavy cock comes into your view that you realize exactly how much you’re going to suffer. 

Steve’s girth is thinner than Bucky’s, and his cock is a little paler – a bit pinker, but they share a similar length. You know both of those heads are capable of hitting the back of your throat and choking the air from your lungs exactly how you darkly crave. If you were in a more normal state of mind, you would have flinched as Bucky forces your jaw open and sticks two fingers into your mouth in silent demand to wet them. You do so immediately, laving at the digits in increasing abandon not realizing you’d closed your eyes until the fingers are gone. Not a beat goes by before your mouth is stuffed again with fingers but this time they feel different. 

With a tremendous effort of will, you lift your eyelids and look up hazy as ever through your lashes at Steve as you suck and tongue and drool all over his long slender fingers. He exhales heavily, eyebrows pinching up slightly in the center, at the breathtaking picture you make on your knees and really, he can’t believe how fucking lucky Bucky is. You’re only allowed a few minutes with Steve’s fingers filling your mouth before they retract to coat his dick. You watch in devastated disbelief as they both start working their wet fingers over their cocks only inches away from your face, pacing themselves into a slow and steady rhythm that is more to tease you then benefit them. 

Every so often they slide their fingers back into your mouth and say ‘Suck’ or present their impossibly large and calloused palms to you and demand ‘Lick’. At this point you don’t bother closing your mouth, just leave it open for them to use because its the most you’re gonna get right now and they’re thick fingers or wide palms are better than nothing. Because really it’s their dicks you want, and they both have such  _nice dicks_  and you want to taste them  _so fucking bad_  and they’re  _right there_ but yet still  _so out of your reach_ that it drives you a bit insane. But you remain wilted against Bucky’s muscled leg in resigned unsatisfied surrender, watching them stroke themselves like time doesn’t exist, completely untouched by the base urgent drive to come, and allowing themselves to feel every twist and squeeze like its the last time they’ll ever do it. 

Their breaths start getting heavier and louder but they continue to just  _pleasure_ themselves, challenging each other to maintain the pace and tease the actual sense out of you who’s a drooling doe-eyed pool of goo at Bucky’s feet. God you’re mouth is actively  _watering_  you want them so bad. And you know you’re deep into subspace because generally dicks are weird looking things and not all that desirable, but the  _second_  your mind goes blank like this you want nothing more than to choke yourself on Bucky’s cock and hear him grunt and groan your name as he spills down your throat. Now that feeling is doubled because there is a second cock here that you want to stuff your mouth with, and you quite simply don’t know what to do with yourself. 

Luckily, Bucky does. 

“Want his dick?” Bucky asks you in a hoarse exhale as he watches you eye the unfamiliar appendage across from his own. He notices that you hesitate for a second before swinging your glassy focus back onto Bucky’s cock, almost going cross-eyed with desire as you follow the movement of his hand still slowly teasing the full length of it in front of you. 

“Yours first, please, Daddy,” You hear yourself request in a raw voice of your own, “Then I want –,” Pausing suddenly, your blissed out brain struggles on Steve’s name (as it does with most things in this headspace outside of the words please, Daddy, Bucky, more, and mine), and for some reason your mind fills in the gap of memory with: “Captain, then I want the Captain’s.” 

Steve lets out a surprised groan at that and tugs on his cock faster, finally breaking their shared torturous pace, as Bucky swallows on a moan of his own and reaches his metal hand to caress your cheek with bright pride bursting in his chest and crowding the fluttering halls of his heart. 

“Why don’t you suck on…” Bucky drawls into loaded silence as he turns his attention to Steve, making sure to catch his eye before continuing with, “The  _Captain’s_  cock.”  

You whine in response, relishing the addictive feeling of acceptance that you’ll take whatever Bucky is willing to give you. At this point you just want a cock in your mouth, you really don’t believe that’s asking much. 

“Open up,” Bucky then instructs as he moves his dirtied hand to rest on Steve’s lower back even though Steve needed no encouragement outside of his own lust, and curls his thumb over your bottom teeth to open your mouth wide with his metal hand in the same moment. 

You absolutely  _break_. 

At your high keen, Bucky releases his hook hold on your jaw and you shuffle forward, taking Steve all the way back in one smooth desperate swallow. You nuzzle your nose against the base of Steve’s pelvis and moan around him as you relax your gag reflex and let the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. 

“ _Good_   _Christ!_ ” Steve hisses as his hands jerk messily into your hair and his upper body bows over your head in a stunned unprepared reaction to your overwhelming all-encompassing  _need_ , “Trained her so well Buck, holy fucking hell,” He gusts through an exhale before sucking in a steadying breath of air as he straightens slowly back up. 

At his words your eyes roll up into your skull and you sag against the pressure in your throat like its the only thing holding you up. Praise was your biggest weakness. 

Bucky indulges himself in a genuine smile at the compliment and only continues to lazily jerk off at the sight of you stuffed to bursting with a full cock in your mouth, Steve’s hands gripping your hair, his praise ringing in your ears, and your heartbeat throbbing in your throat against your collar. You’ve never looked more divine. Still stroking himself he stalks behind you and kneels, reaching his free metal hand around to pinch the silver tag dangling from your collar that reads ‘ _Property of J.B.B_ ’ between his fingers at the front of your neck. He places his lips against the shell of your ear before whispering, 

“You’re such a good girl,” You  _sob_ on Steve’s cock as Bucky applies a calculated amount of pressure to pull you off and allow you to breathe, “Such a good pet for the Captain and your Daddy,” He murmurs before pulling you by the petite silver tag back down Steve’s dick, feeling your neck and collar stretch and give to accommodate Steve’s length. 

“Bucky I can’t last like this,” Steve huffs unevenly as his hips give a dangerously deep forceful stutter that makes you gag, “I can’t control – can’t, I’ll  _hurt her_  –,”

“Baby you want the Captain to fuck your throat raw?” Bucky promptly interrupts as he now rubs his hot length into the crease of your butt cheeks in slow lazy thrusts, feeling the buttplug he put in you nice and slow before Steve came in catch against the sensitive flesh of his dick if he pushes hard enough. 

You collapse into a broken fit of muffled pleas, lips still working over Steve’s cock, mouth and chin slick with spit and precum as you beg to be used and debauched because you  _want it_ and  _Bucky wants it_ and wow  _what’s my name again?_

Steve can’t deny that particularly convincing request and with a nod from Bucky, begins to literally fuck your throat raw. It’s messy and intense and you’ve never felt more used, but Bucky’s right there, right behind you whispering things like ‘you’re my good girl’ and ‘you take his cock so well baby’ and ‘you’re doing so fucking good’ in your ear in an infinite stream of praise and support and comfort. You honestly don’t comprehend half of what he’s saying, but from the tone of his voice and the touch of his hand at your throat and the band of pressure from your collar, you’re trapped in this never ending cycle of inexorable love and unyielding sensation. 

You don’t know anything but what you can feel, what you can taste, what you can hear and smell. You become a singular carnal creature only able to respond to the demand of the bodies around you, free from the burden of everyday life. 

You’re  _free_. 

Bucky watches Steve’s pace jerk out of it’s perfect rhythm and he knows he’s close. With a grunt Bucky grips your hips in his hands and wrenches you back to fall on all fours, locking the gagging noise you made on Steve’s cock at the change of position away in his mind for safe keeping, and gives your ass a nice smack as he lines himself up and doesn’t hesitate to push into the unbearable heat of your pussy. 

“ _Oh_ fuck,” Bucky groans in absolute euphoria as he pushes his hips forward at an angle that he knows reaches in you deep, letting the smacking sound of your ass against his pelvis mix with the wet frantic pumping of Steve in your mouth. 

He juxtaposes the speed your receiving from the front, by grinding and pacing what you’re getting from behind. Bucky knows that you’re long gone by the way you hang between them like a rag doll lose, mute, and needy, but he wants to drive you down more, even farther,  _always_  farther. He checks you over to make sure you’re doing alright since asking you for your color right now would be like expecting a rock to talk. Feeling the heavy sobering weight of having sole responsibility for your well being sit importantly and singularly in his hands, Bucky checks you out. After doing his standard but thorough look over, pulse check, and breathing check (asking Steve to back off for a second to do so), Bucky decides that you’re okay to move forward and go the next step. 

Bucky nods his approval for Steve to continue but instead of resuming his thundering pace, Steve returns to one that’s more controlled. It seems that Bucky making sure you were okay had shaken Steve into a more cautious state of mind as he gently brushes your hair out of your face and swipes his thumbs under your eyes to dry your cheeks of tears. It coaxes a fond smile onto Bucky’s face because Steve at his core is really just a big marshmallow.

The supersoldiers take their sweet time using each of your hot wet holes they’ve claimed, sometimes their rhythms even align –  _two sets of powerful hips thrusting thick cocks in you at the same time, one shoving deep into your core and the other stuffing down your throat_ – making you feel more full than you’ve ever felt before. Its  _marvelous_ in a very overwhelming, sensory overload kind of way. Their breaths rush unevenly out of their parted or bitten lips, scraping up their throats. As they beat their hips into you they’ll exhale harshly when it feels good or moan low and deep when it feels  _really_ good. Bucky will now and again deliver you an accenting slap on your ass as further praise because he knows how much you love getting spanked. He also possessively watches the buttplug that’s maintaining his earlier thorough work of opening you up, snag and bob a bit when you clench around him. 

Steve has edged himself back on the brink, and before he can climax and pump his load of cum down your throat (Bucky can attest to that particular sublime sensation) he reaches one hand under your stomach, and lifts you up to lean back against him. Steve throws a very betrayed and nearly furious glare across to Bucky as his narrow but impossibly muscled hips continue to frantically –  _uncontrollably_  – thrust into the air where your mouth used to be. 

Bucky returns his friend’s expression with a famous Bucky Barnes wink that belonged to the ghost of the swaggering kid he used to be in Brooklyn, as he swoops you up into his arms and heads to the sprawling bed. Steve gets the message but has to spare a few seconds to grip the base of himself, letting his body shudder and jerk through the torture of a denied orgasm. 

You’re limp in Bucky’s arms as he lays himself on the bed and positions you to sit on his lap. Once your sluggish sex-drugged mind realizes that you’re no longer being filled on two ends and that you’re in fact hovering over Bucky – all that oiled muscle sprawling under you like a  _feast_ coming into your spotty vision  _–_ your body moves on its own. Before Bucky can stop you, you wiggle down until your face is level with his dick. Reverently, you clasp a hand around him and press your cheek against the hot burning length, watching Bucky look down his body at you in stunned surprise that quickly twists into unbridled  _want_. Dropping a sweet kiss on the tip, like leaving an offering before entering a temple, you open your slick greedy lips and moan as you take him in smooth and slow like you’ve wanted to do since the start. 

Bucky inhales sharply through clenched teeth, wrenching you off him with a resounding pop before you can get any farther than his head by the grip he quickly secures in your hair. He then yanks you up his body that’s laying on the bed so your faces are level, and before he can chastise you for once again acting on your own whims, your lips move and your slurred voice weaves itself through the couple inches of space between both of your mouths like a magic spell.

“I  _love_ you.” 

The three words resonate in Bucky, echoing throughout his soul like the acoustics of a 15th century grand chapel. He’s  _floored_  by you, yet again, as he always finds himself being. And in a moment of pure untainted love for you sparkling in his veins like champagne, he cups the sides of your neck, thumbs grazing your jaw, and guides you down for a soft humbled kiss. 

Steve watches this and honestly feels like he shouldn’t be, like this moment wasn’t his to witness. It somehow seemed more intimate than having a cock down your throat. But before Steve can start blushing and pull back, Bucky reaches his metal hand out to his best friend palm up, though he doesn’t take his eyes away from the open gorgeous surrendering gaze of your own. Steve hesitates before stepping forward and gently sliding his hand into his friend’s metal one, letting Bucky pull him closer. 

“Her ass is yours, her pussy is mine.” Bucky offers and claims at the same time as he glances away from you to look at Steve. Steve  _shivers_ at the glint in Bucky’s eye, having never seen it there before, and gulps then nods as he lets go of Bucky’s hand and moves to the end of the bed. 

You’re so lost in the world of Bucky’s eyes that it’s not until you feel the bed dip behind you that you remember the Capta –  _Steve,_ is here too. Bucky doesn’t hesitate to take great handfuls of your ass in each large hand and spread you open –  _present you –_  to Steve. He curses hotly at the sight displayed for him, taking a luxurious second to savor it. The Captain’s capable strong fingers get a grip on the flat protruding edge of the toy stuffing your ass, and you whine as you feel the buttplug you honestly forgot was there, slowly be pulled out of you inch by tantalizing inch. 

Steve sighs so deeply that it almost cuts down into a groan at the sight of your hole clenching on air after the slick toy is fully removed. He wastes no time in coating his dick by rubbing your wet folds with his length, before positioning his head against your hole and  _pushing_. Normally your hands might have flown to clutch onto something, and your body might have tensed, but you’re so lost in your own head that you simply accept him with little to no effort, barely making a sound. The plug had kept your ass moist and open, and with Steve’s wet dick he slid in like a dream. Steve’s large hands smack to your sides as he grips you hard, needing to hold on to something as he throws his head back and his neck bares itself to the heavy air of the room.

“Oh  _fuck_ ,” He grunts to the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut and body rigid at the impossible tightness of your asshole, “Shit,” Steve curses as he looks down at his length that he slowly starts pumping in and out. 

“She feel good?” Bucky asks in a firm tease, wanting to hear him say it not only for his own satisfaction but so you could hear it too. 

“ _Uh_  Buck, yeah, fuck yeah she does,” Steve groans as his hips  _shake_ with the effort to not pummel you into a pulp. 

Bucky continues to hold your buttcheeks open, showing off to Steve what was  _his_  and how lucky Steve was to be afforded the honor of experiencing it. You’re a silent collapsed lump on Bucky’s chest, emitting hot little ‘uh uh uh’s every know and then when Steve starts to increase his speed. You don’t resurface until you feel another hot head probing at your dripping folds. 

_Oh please…_

Releasing his flesh hand Bucky carefully aligns himself with your empty hole, nearly snarling at the unbelievable pleasure of rubbing against Steve, and very slowly but deliberately stuffing himself into your pussy. You’re not sure if you made any sound, you can’t even feel your own  _face_ you’re so fucked out right now. The pressure –  _oh the pressure_  – is immense and seemingly unending. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, you do. You just continue to take and take and take and  _take_ …

“There you go baby, we’re all in.” Bucky groans after a good few minutes of pushing in and allowing your body time to adjust, usually he’d give you more than that to  _mentally_ adjust too, but you didn’t need the extra mental time considering you weren’t all there right now. 

Bucky’s head fucking  _spins_  with all the sensation he’s currently drowning in, so some of the adjustment period was for him and Steve as well. 

At his limit, Steve gives a groan as he hunches over the two of you, staples his fists into the bed on either side of Bucky’s head, and gives a shallow but harsh  _thrust_. Steve watches his friend’s eyes roll into his skull at the feeling. Bucky lets the pleasure roll through him for another beat, before sliding nearly all the way out of you, and pushing oh so slowly back in. Both supersoldiers moan loud and long at the tightness, at the splintering pleasure, at all of it. Their rumbling guttural noises ricochet off the meat of their chests that you’re trapped between, making you feel safe and loved and cared for and sated but still endlessly  _wanting_ –

“More,” You hear yourself cry into the slick skin of Bucky’s neck, “ _More!_ ” Your keening encourages the end of the long glorious moment, and per your demand both packed bodies grunt as they release and then  _clench_ around you, pulling out in sync only to stuff you back up at the same time. 

With a noise akin to a growl Steve noses his way into the crook of your neck and sinks his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder for leverage as he and Bucky find their rhythm, and gradually speed up. They start pounding not just faster but  _harder_ into you, taking what they want and using you like you never thought you wanted to be used but find you resolutely  _do_. It’s endless and its primitive…its prime naked lust. These two beasts made of muscle and drive claim you for their own, chasing their pleasure but also beating it into you. 

There’s no escape. 

You’ve never fallen this far, never lost yourself this thoroughly before. There’s too much but yet not enough, there’s no up down right or left, there’s white blinding heat and embracing cool darkness, there’s everything and then there is nothing –  _out_ and  _in_ and  _out_ and  _in_ and  _out_ and  _in_. 

You feel the harsh breath of Steve at your shoulder, his teeth impressing delicious half circles of delicate pain into the muscle there. You feel Bucky’s mirroring gusts of air pushing out of his nose as he smashes his face into the other side of your neck, murmuring declarations of love and devotion and forever into your skin, the words tattooing themselves onto your soul. You feel the two cocks abuse your holes at the same time, at separate times, at opposite times, any and every moment filled with a thrust or a release or  _both_. You feel yourself adding to the wetness of Bucky’s neck, your overstimulated tears mixing with his sweat. You feel the invisible throbbing pulse all three of you share as your bodies become one force, one driving desire to feel. 

Bucky knows, even in your current state of mind, that you haven’t come yet because you weren’t told to. He’s ingrained that in you to be second nature. Bucky moves so his face is not pressed flat into your neck but instead looking up at Steve who’s released his hold on your shoulder and is now blindly pounding into you. His head hangs between his bulging arms and his body works like a tank to match Bucky’s own unforgiving punishing pace. Bucky’s metal hand lifts to wrap behind Steve’s neck, the metal hot from all the combined heat of their bodies as it slides through the baby hairs at the base of Steve’s skull. Steve doesn’t stop thrusting, a monster of lust lost in the feel of you – in the sensation of it all, so Bucky squeezes his hand hard enough to dislocate a regular human neck. Steve jumps at the pressure and his glazed eyes swim a bit before they focus down on Bucky and really see him. 

“We both pull out at the same time and don’t push back in,” Bucky instructs through a grunt, and Steve honest to god  _whimpers_  but Bucky continues, “I want her to beg for it,” 

 _I’m about to beg for it,_  Steve thinks but agrees and on Bucky’s nod they both pull out and everything stops. 

The room gets insurmountably quieter with the lack of skin pounding on skin, but their breath is still heavy and loud as they wait for you to come into yourself a bit. It takes you a sluggish moment to realize that the glorious numbing contact has stopped. You don’t stir from your spot, too fucked out and drunk on pleasure to even lift an eyelid. Bucky is insanely proud of himself that he was able to push you this far, but he waits you out. If he’s learned anything since falling in love with you, its that in the end you’ll  _always_  want more. Steve trembles above the two of you while they wait for you to respond, and not because he’s tired but from containing the desire to ignore Bucky’s demand and go back to being an animal of want. 

Your body starts to  _throb_ with the emptiness, waves of it that pulse under your skin and drag you further away from that endless wall you’ve been locked on since you really went under. Kept in an eternal state of  _just about_ to come, overstimulation and sensory overload making up an addicting cage that bars you from true climax. 

A small pleading noise eventually rips from your throat, and when you still don’t get your contact, you whine a little louder. 

“Beg.” Is the word that’s whispered in your ear and you near disintegrate into ash. 

Your voice cracks as you try to form words, your shut down brain scrambling for anything to push out the gates of your lips.

“More,” Is your first attempt. 

Nothing. 

“Daddy,” 

Again nothing. 

You start to shiver with the lack of that wonderfully harsh pounding and your mind stirs itself in circles trying to get what you want. It’s not until you feel devote lips press a sweet kiss to the skin under your ear that a promising word slurs from your throat,

“ _Please_ ,” 

You hear a moan –  _Steve_  – fill the room and two warm heads position themselves at your entrances but still don’t push in. Frantically you repeat the word, 

“Please please _,”_ Your voice hitches as they start to slowly push in, you don’t stop, not wanting to risk Bucky changing his mind, “Please, please,  _please,_ please,” 

Like a mantra you repeat that sacred word even after your mind melts back into goo as the blessed pounding returns, this time unrelenting and final. And now, still a limp doll, you start  _crying_  that word for an entirely different reason. 

You want to come. 

“Please please please  _please_!” You sob as Steve groans sharply, curses in a broken cry, and pulls out to frantically beat himself off as he coats your back with his cum.

Bucky watches Steve shiver through his climax and his hunger to finish too promptly devours him. 

“Please!” Your voice tears itself from your fucked raw throat and the world, time, logic,  _emotion_ doesn’t exist –  _come_ ,  _I wanna come too…_

Bucky quickly stuffs his fingers in your now empty asshole, and shouts your name into your neck as he buries his cock deep in you with one final thrust, rocketing into his own climax. His hips grind and hump uncontrollably into yours as he shoots his load in you, marking you from the inside out as his and only his. You’ve lost your voice at this point, but you still force your wrecked throat to produce an endless hoarse chant of desperate pleas. 

It takes Bucky a long second to recover from his white-out orgasm (one of the most intense he’s ever had) before he tries to reach his other hand to your pussy to give you what you want. He struggles with the positioning and before he can even ask for help Steve is there, waiting for Bucky’s permission to set his fingers against your clit. With a shuddering sigh of thanks, Bucky takes both hands to maneuver your head out from the alcove of his neck so he’s holding it up above his, looking right into your hooded pupil-blown unseeing eyes. You look so lost yet found, so safe yet vulnerable, so loved yet tortured. It’s an expression he’s never going to forget and puts him in sheer trembling awe of you. 

The amount of  _trust_ you give him, it humbles Bucky to his bones.  _This_  is what helped fill the holes in his soul caused from years of abuse and brainwashing and torture, this unimaginable enduring  _trust –_   

Bucky pulls out to give Steve full access to your clit and nods, not tearing his eyes away from you. He wants to see this.  

You feel your soul explode as a merciful circling pressure against your bundle of nerves shatters the cage that’s held you on the brink, and all but shoves you over the edge. And it’s not fast fingers or frantic swiping against your folds that does you in, but slow two-fingered tender circles that rub around once, twice, thrice –  _ecstasy._

You still haven’t moved and you still don’t, but what was left of your mind goes black and you float away on the back of a slow motion mushroom cloud of pleasure. Everything collecting and then violently disappearing in the same moment to leave you in the blissful safety of the dark. 

Bucky watches you leave yourself, eyes fluttering shut, face falling into pure untarnished release. It’s the most beautiful thing, the most precious gift that you could give him and that you always without fail give to him. This trust and love and vulnerability, the strength it takes to be this way, to do this for him over and over and over again willingly and needlessly. It blows him away and the surging love he feels for you then is the kind of love that survives lifetimes, ages, worlds, universes, and time itself. The kind of love that etches itself into stars so all existence can know of the phenomenon that is the love between James Barnes and Y/n Y/l/n.  

 

* * *

 

Wanda promptly chokes on her donut holes. 

(I mean that’s what you get for poking around someone’s head but good lord when Wanda claims she can bring back memories or relive dreams, she  _damn well means it_. You didn’t remember half the dream that was just played out in your head! Details had gone missing and you weren’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that Wanda revived them.) 

Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull, your heart stops in your chest, and your cheeks erupt into flames as the men in your dream collide with the real men in front of you. The embarrassing fact that Wanda witnessed that entire thing is the very  _least_  of your current issues right now. 

With a sharp pivot on your heel –  _don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic don’t fucking PANIC –_ you face your back to the two oblivious supersoldiers and make a beeline for the fridge before they can ask or sense what’s wrong. Because between Steve’s Mother Henning and Bucky’s Your Husband Misses Nothing attitude, they’d notice (if they haven’t already) that something is definitely up with you this morning. Grumbling again under your breath, this time about stupid fucking supersoldiers  _and_  mind reading teenagers, you stalk with as much dignity as you can muster to the humongous refrigerator. Wrenching the stainless steel door open, you almost smack Thor clean in the face, not having notice him come up to greet you. 

“Oh! Almost got me there Friend Y/n!” The Asgardian greets with the usual ceremony as he backs away from the door that stands inches from his pretty face.

“Sorry,” You grunt with decidedly less pomp and circumstance while beginning to rummage through the cold contents of the fridge, not actually seeing any of the food inside because you’re too busy convincing yourself that everything will be  _fine_ because it was all _a dream._

“Well you’re a short worded one this fine morning!” Thor jests in a trumpeting tenor that honest to god makes you cringe with its volume. You don’t have the  _time_ for this right now.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic…

You stop your hasty search in the fridge and lean around the door to send Thor your famous death glare. 

“Uh, yeah Thor, I…I wouldn’t,” Bucky leaps into the exchange from his seat, newspaper abandoned, tone gentle and full of warning having been on the receiving end of your grumpy bouts before. “Not a morning person,” Bucky adds in a whisper yell once Thor turns his attention to the Sergeant. 

Thor takes a moment to earnestly digest Bucky’s words, only to return his gaze back to yours with a hilariously weary twinkle in his eye as you continue to glare at him. After a beat though his yellow bearded face relaxes from its pinched confusion.

“Ah,” Thor concedes, raising his huge hands in surrender and taking another oddly calculated step back, a peculiar expression of sage wisdom pulls over his fine features, “I know of this. Women of Asgard also go through monthly reproductive cycles that induce emotional hormonal fits caused by their reproductive organs secreting –,”

“THOR!” Bucky and Steve both yell, their stools making loud screeching noises as they shoot to their feet in perfect synchronized panic and mirroring naked horror.

Nat and Wanda cackle like witches over their stupid box of dount holes. 

There’s steam coming out of your ears as your humiliation only climbs higher. Not only are you flustered out of your mind about the sex dream (and the fact that it feels like you just genuinely  _experienced_ it, thanks Wanda), but now Thor is accusing you of being on your period. Which you are  _not_. Thank you very much. Before logic can intercede, you reach to grab the empty metal muffin tray sitting on the island and without hesitation, bang it as hard as you can against Thor’s chest. 

A loud comical  _bong_ echos in the room, causing Nat and Wanda to graduate from cackling to full on snorting and wheezing, while Bucky and Steve watch on ready to defend themselves from Y/nzilla. Thor blinks dopily for a moment, seemingly unfazed from the oddity of your actions. In fact he almost looks apologetic, like he misplaced an important detail. 

“I forgot women of Earth do not like this fact announced,” Thor starts as he clasps his hands together in front of him and bows his head.

“I’m not on my period Thor!” You groan as you close your eyes and drop your head back, wishing you could disappear into nothingness right about now. 

“But then why did you find it necessary to defend yourself with this kitchen treasure?” Thor asks casually (if a bit genuinely curious) for having just been beaten with a muffin tray.

Without picking your head back up, you slowly lift the completely dented tray from its hidden dangle at your side, causing even more raucous laughter from the girls’ table.

“Because I would have broken my hand against your weird alien body.” Comes your defeated response as you finally crane your head back up and go to place the broken kitchenware in it’s former spot on the island. 

Thor’s face clears and he smiles big and bright at you, “How very clever! Good thinking Lady Y/n,” He says in an obvious effort to get back in your good graces, then the great oaf turns to Bucky, “You’ve persuaded a strong woman to be your bride, congratulations friend James.” 

You’re  _so_  done. With absolutely everything.    

Bucky gulps and stares at you as your eyes slowly close, your fists clench, and your shoulder rake up to your ears. Utterly white in the face your husband responds with a cautious,

“Yeah man, thanks.” 

Thor nods gravely, completely unaffected by the fundamental strangeness of all of this. You fully blame his weird alien culture. In the following resounding silence, you let loose an embarrassing exclamation of ‘ _AHH!’_  (that you will deny for the rest of your days) and stomp over to the snickering girls to snatch the donut box into your arms out from under their chortling. Yes, you’re  _that_  petty. And after sweeping a soul-slicing glare across the entire room, you exit the kitchen with dust kicking up at your heels. 

You make it maybe four hurried strides into the hall before you hear Wanda’s voice struggle through her chuckles to announce to the kitchen,

“She had a sex dream last night about a threesome with Bucky and Steve. I replayed it for her just now, wanna see?”

You swivel around, mouth just recently stuffed full with three donut holes, and thoroughly betrayed you screech down the hall: “ _TRAITOR!”_  

**Author's Note:**

> Omg this was insanely fun but also a definite struggle since it was my first time writing a threesome lol. I blushed at least a million times while writing this and I seriously need to go soak in holy water ugh send help. Lemme know what you think if you want to, cause I also have another more angsty ATF oneshot that’s been requested but idk when I’ll write that haha.


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